


the whiskey requiem

by flamboyantgentleman



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, TW: Suicide, because seriously all the triggers, but you are a canvas for other people's pain, i'm so sorry striders, just don't read this if you're in a self-destructive state of mind, p.s. there is NO SUBTEXTUAL NON-CON OR ABUSE INVOLVED they're just two very fucked up people, this is probably the most unapologetically fucked up thing i've ever written, tw: alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamboyantgentleman/pseuds/flamboyantgentleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he drew the air out of your lungs and you<br/>liked it that way,<br/>hips jutting toward the ceiling and<br/>white lips bleeding<br/>because it made you empty in a hundred beautiful ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the whiskey requiem

**Author's Note:**

> most of what i had to say is in my notes but  
> i am not particularly kidding when i say i wrote this in a very self-destructive state of mind.
> 
> that said, it's fairly more poetic than my other stuff and vaguely more abstract. i hope everyone likes it?

you can remember the quiet hours of drowning in your own skin,  
that gasping, clutching for a better lie  
to keep you bobbing on the surface of a void  
that ran down to the cracks in your bones.  
you remember the way his whiskey kisses burned your skin  
when the questions on your lips tasted sweeter  
than the hands on your hips.  
life polarized itself  
and you spent days searching for air in the murky waters of your mind  
and nights making love to the fuzzy feeling of whiskey in your veins  
and you swam a little bit deeper each time  
he remembered nothing.  
you knew why it hurt  
but you buried truth somewhere  
beneath your ribcage  
and he,  
he drew the air out of your lungs and you  
liked it that way,  
hips jutting toward the ceiling and  
white lips bleeding  
because it made you empty in a hundred beautiful ways.  
some nights he  
slipped the whiskey onto the shelf  
and didn’t touch it.  
those nights he didn’t touch you, either.  
you found an alcoholics anonymous flier tucked under his pillow  
like a love note  
and you waited for him to come home with those hard  
grown-up  
gone-away  
eyes,  
and now you spent nights drowning, too.  
you nursed the whiskey like heartache  
so you wouldn’t forget the way he tasted  
or the way emptiness felt.  
truth sang a slurred lullaby  
against the cage of your ribs,  
and you very nearly bashed in your head  
trying to go deaf.  
he tried to be good to you and you  
hated it that way,  
because there was no pity in the way he looked at you before.  
so you drank to fill yourself  
when he couldn’t empty you anymore  
you drank until your bones grew brittle  
and your skin felt too loose  
and you could tell he noticed  
from the way the whiskey started disappearing from the shelf again.  
you found an alcoholics anonymous flier tucked under your pillow  
like a love note,  
and you wrote goodbye on the back  
in messy chicken scrawl.  
he wasn’t broken anymore  
not like you  
couldn’t feel the ghost of his fingers beneath the knobs of your spine  
like you could  
and so you let the truth free,  
broke your ribs and watched it bleed out its last song  
onto the paper.  
you plucked off its wings and  
you  
flew.

_bye, bro_  
 _i love you._


End file.
